You Never Can Tell · Act II (2/2) (1/5)
The Gentleman Yawning and giving up the paper as a bad job. Waiter!
Waiter Sir? Coming down C.
The Gentleman Are you quite sure Mrs. Clandon is coming back before lunch?
Waiter Quite sure, sir. She expects you at a quarter to one, sir. The gentleman*, soothed at once by the waiter’s* voice, looks at him with a lazy smile. It is a quiet voice, with a gentle melody in it that gives sympathetic interest to his most commonplace remark; and he speaks with the sweetest propriety, neither dropping his aitches nor misplacing them, nor committing any other vulgarism. He looks at his watch as he continues, Not that yet, sir, is it? 12:43, sir. Only two minutes more to wait, sir. Nice morning, sir?
The Gentleman Yes: very fresh after London.
Waiter Yes, sir: so all our visitors say, sir. Very nice family, Mrs. Clandon’s, sir.
The Gentleman You like them, do you?
Waiter Yes, sir. They have a free way with them that is very taking, sir, very taking indeed, sir: especially the young lady and gentleman.
The Gentleman Miss Dorothea and Mr. Philip, I suppose.
Waiter Yes, sir. The young lady, in giving an order, or the like of that, will say, “Remember, William, we came to this hotel on your account, having heard what a perfect waiter you are.” The young gentleman will tell me that I remind him strongly of his father the gentleman starts at this and that he expects me to act by him as such. Soothing, sunny cadence. Oh, very pleasant, sir, very affable and pleasant indeed!
The Gentleman You like his father! He laughs at the notion.
Waiter Oh, we must not take what they say too seriously, sir. Of course, sir, if it were true, the young lady would have seen the resemblance, too, sir.
The Gentleman Did she?
Waiter No, sir. She thought me like the bust of Shakespeare in Stratford Church, sir. That is why she calls me William, sir. My real name is Walter, sir. He turns to go back to the table, and sees Mrs. Clandon coming up to the terrace from the beach by the steps. Here is Mrs. Clandon, sir. To Mrs. Clandon, in an unobtrusively confidential tone, Gentleman for you, ma’am.
Mrs. Clandon We shall have two more gentlemen at lunch, William.
Waiter Right, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. He withdraws into the hotel. Mrs. Clandon comes forward looking round for her visitor, but passes over the gentleman without any sign of recognition.
The Gentleman Peering at her quaintly from under the umbrella. Don’t you know me?
Mrs. Clandon Incredulously, looking hard at him. Are you Finch McComas?
McComas Can’t you guess? He shuts the umbrella; puts it aside; and jocularly plants himself with his hands on his hips to be inspected.
Mrs. Clandon I believe you are. She gives him her hand. The shake that ensues is that of old friends after a long separation. Where’s your beard?
McComas With humorous solemnity. Would you employ a solicitor with a beard?
Mrs. Clandon Pointing to the silk hat on the table. Is that your hat?
McComas Would you employ a solicitor with a sombrero?
Mrs. Clandon I have thought of you all these eighteen years with the beard and the sombrero. She sits down on the garden seat. McComas takes his chair again. Do you go to the meetings of the Dialectical Society still?
McComas Gravely. I do not frequent meetings now.
Mrs. Clandon Finch: I see what has happened. You have become respectable.
McComas Haven’t you?
Mrs. Clandon Not a bit.
McComas You hold to your old opinions still?
Mrs. Clandon As firmly as ever.
McComas Bless me! And you are still ready to make speeches in public, in spite of your sex Mrs. Clandon nods; to insist on a married woman’s right to her own separate property she nods again; to champion Darwin’s view of the origin of species and John Stuart Mill’s essay on Liberty nod; to read Huxley, Tyndall and George Eliot three nods; and to demand University degrees, the opening of the professions, and the parliamentary franchise for women as well as men?
Mrs. Clandon Resolutely. Yes: I have not gone back one inch; and I have educated Gloria to take up my work where I left it. That is what has brought me back to England: I felt that I had no right to bury her alive in Madeira⁠—my St. Helena, Finch. I suppose she will be howled at as I was; but she is prepared for that.
McComas Howled at! My dear good lady: there is nothing in any of those views nowadays to prevent her from marrying a bishop. You reproached me just now for having become respectable. You were wrong: I hold to our old opinions as strongly as ever. I don’t go to church; and I don’t pretend I do. I call myself what I am: a Philosophic Radical, standing for liberty and the rights of the individual, as I learnt to do from my master Herbert Spencer. Am I howled at? No: I’m indulged as an old fogey. I’m out of everything, because I’ve refused to bow the knee to Socialism.
Mrs. Clandon Shocked. Socialism!
McComas Yes, Socialism. That’s what Miss Gloria will be up to her ears in before the end of the month if you let her loose here.
Mrs. Clandon Emphatically. But I can prove to her that Socialism is a fallacy.
McComas Touchingly. It is by proving that, Mrs. Clandon, that I have lost all my young disciples. Be careful what you do: let her go her own way. With some bitterness. We’re old-fashioned: the world thinks it has left us behind. There is only one place in all England where your opinions would still pass as advanced.
Mrs. Clandon Scornfully unconvinced. The Church, perhaps?
McComas No, the theatre. And now to business! Why have you made me come down here?
Mrs. Clandon Well, partly because I wanted to see you⁠—
McComas With good-humored irony. Thanks.
Mrs. Clandon —and partly because I want you to explain everything to the children. They know nothing; and now that we have come back to England, it is impossible to leave them in ignorance any longer. Agitated. Finch: I cannot bring myself to tell them. I⁠—She is interrupted by the twins and Gloria. Dolly comes tearing up the steps, racing Philip, who combines a terrific speed with unhurried propriety of bearing which, however, costs him the race, as Dolly reaches her mother first and almost upsets the garden seat by the precipitancy of her arrival.
Dolly Breathless. It’s all right, mamma. The dentist is coming; and he’s bringing his old man.
Mrs. Clandon Dolly, dear: don’t you see Mr. McComas? Mr. McComas rises, smilingly.
Dolly Her face falling with the most disparagingly obvious disappointment. This! Where are the flowing locks?
Philip Seconding her warmly. Where the beard?⁠—the cloak?⁠—the poetic exterior?
Dolly Oh, Mr. McComas, you’ve gone and spoiled yourself. Why didn’t you wait till we’d seen you?
McComas Taken aback, but rallying his humor to meet the emergency. Because eighteen years is too long for a solicitor to go without having his hair cut.
Gloria At the other side of McComas. How do you do, Mr. McComas? He turns; and she takes his hand and presses it, with a frank straight look into his eyes. We are glad to meet you at last.
McComas Miss Gloria, I presume? Gloria* smiles assent, and releases his hand after a final pressure. She then retires behind the garden seat, leaning over the back beside Mrs. Clandon*. And this young gentleman?
Philip I was christened in a comparatively prosaic mood. My name is⁠—
Dolly Completing his sentence for him declamatorily. “Norval. On the Grampian hills”⁠—
Philip Declaiming gravely. “My father feeds his flock, a frugal swain”⁠—
Mrs. Clandon Remonstrating. Dear, dear children: don’t be silly. Everything is so new to them here, Finch, that they are in the wildest spirits. They think every Englishman they meet is a joke.
Dolly Well, so he is: it’s not our fault.
Philip My knowledge of human nature is fairly extensive, Mr. McComas; but I find it impossible to take the inhabitants of this island seriously.
McComas I presume, sir, you are Master Philip? Offering his hand.
Philip Taking McComas’s hand and looking solemnly at him. I was Master Philip⁠—was so for many years; just as you were once Master Finch. He gives his hand a single shake and drops it; then turns away, exclaiming meditatively, How strange it is to look back on our boyhood! McComas stares after him, not at all pleased.
Dolly To Mrs. Clandon. Has Finch had a drink?
Mrs. Clandon Remonstrating. Dearest: Mr. McComas will lunch with us.
Dolly Have you ordered for seven? Don’t forget the old gentleman.
Mrs. Clandon I have not forgotten him, dear. What is his name?
Dolly Chalkstones. He’ll be here at half past one. To McComas. Are we like what you expected?
Mrs. Clandon Changing her tone to a more earnest one. Dolly: Mr. McComas has something more serious than that to tell you. Children: I have asked my old friend to answer the question you asked this morning. He is your father’s friend as well as mine: and he will tell you the story more fairly than I could. Turning her head from them to Gloria. Gloria: are you satisfied?
Gloria Gravely attentive. Mr. McComas is very kind.
McComas Nervously. Not at all, my dear young lady: not at all. At the same time, this is rather sudden. I was hardly prepared⁠—er⁠—
Dolly Suspiciously. Oh, we don’t want anything prepared.
Philip Exhorting him. Tell us the truth.
Dolly Emphatically. Bald headed.
McComas Nettled. I hope you intend to take what I have to say seriously.
Philip With profound mock gravity. I hope it will deserve it, Mr. McComas. My knowledge of human nature teaches me not to expect too much.
Mrs. Clandon Remonstrating. Phil⁠—
Philip Yes, mother, all right. I beg your pardon, Mr. McComas: don’t mind us.
Dolly In conciliation. We mean well.
Philip Shut up, both.
Dolly* holds her lips. McComas takes a chair from the luncheon table; places it between the little table and the garden seat with Dolly on his right and Philip on his left; and settles himself in it with the air of a man about to begin a long communication. The Clandons* match him expectantly.
McComas Ahem! Your father⁠—
Dolly Interrupting. How old is he?
Philip Sh!
Mrs. Clandon Softly. Dear Dolly: don’t let us interrupt Mr. McComas.
McComas Emphatically. Thank you, Mrs. Clandon. Thank you. To Dolly. Your father is fifty-seven.
Dolly With a bound, startled and excited. Fifty-seven! Where does he live?
Mrs. Clandon Remonstrating. Dolly, Dolly!
McComas Stopping her. Let me answer that, Mrs. Clandon. The answer will surprise you considerably. He lives in this town. Mrs. Clandon* rises. She and Gloria* look at one another in the greatest consternation.
Dolly With conviction. I knew it! Phil: Chalkstones is our father.
McComas Chalkstones!
Dolly Oh, Crampstones, or whatever it is. He said I was like his mother. I knew he must mean his daughter.
Philip Very seriously. Mr. McComas: I desire to consider your feelings in every possible way: but I warn you that if you stretch the long arm of coincidence to the length of telling me that Mr. Crampton of this town is my father, I shall decline to entertain the information for a moment.
McComas And pray why?
Philip Because I have seen the gentleman; and he is entirely unfit to be my father, or Dolly’s father, or Gloria’s father, or my mother’s husband.
McComas Oh, indeed! Well, sir, let me tell you that whether you like it or not, he is your father, and your sisters’ father, and Mrs. Clandon’s husband. Now! What have you to say to that!
Dolly Whimpering. You needn’t be so cross. Crampton isn’t your father.
Philip Mr. McComas: your conduct is heartless. Here you find a family enjoying the unspeakable peace and freedom of being orphans. We have never seen the face of a relative⁠—never known a claim except the claim of freely chosen friendship. And now you wish to thrust into the most intimate relationship with us a man whom we don’t know⁠—
Dolly Vehemently. An awful old man! Reproachfully. And you began as if you had quite a nice father for us.
McComas Angrily. How do you know that he is not nice? And what right have you to choose your own father? Raising his voice. Let me tell you, Miss Clandon, that you are too young to⁠—
Dolly Interrupting him suddenly and eagerly. Stop, I forgot! Has he any money?
McComas He has a great deal of money.
Dolly Delighted. Oh, what did I always say, Phil?
Philip Dolly: we have perhaps been condemning the old man too hastily. Proceed, Mr. McComas.
McComas I shall not proceed, sir. I am too hurt, too shocked, to proceed.
Mrs. Clandon Urgently. Finch: do you realize what is happening? Do you understand that my children have invited that man to lunch, and that he will be here in a few moments?
McComas Completely upset. What! do you mean⁠—am I to understand⁠—is it⁠—
Philip Impressively. Steady, Finch. Think it out slowly and carefully. He’s coming⁠—coming to lunch.
Gloria Which of us is to tell him the truth? Have you thought of that?
Mrs. Clandon Finch: you must tell him.
Dolly Oh, Finch is no good at telling things. Look at the mess he has made of telling us.
McComas I have not been allowed to speak. I protest against this.
Dolly Taking his arm coaxingly. Dear Finch: don’t be cross.
Mrs. Clandon Gloria: let us go in. He may arrive at any moment.
Gloria Proudly. Do not stir, mother. I shall not stir. We must not run away.
Mrs. Clandon Delicately rebuking her. My dear: we cannot sit down to lunch just as we are. We shall come back again. We must have no bravado. Gloria winces, and goes into the hotel without a word. Come, Dolly. *As she goes into the hotel door, the waiter* comes out with plates, etc., for two additional covers on a tray.
Waiter Gentlemen come yet, ma’am?
Mrs. Clandon Two more to come yet, thank you. They will be here, immediately. She goes into the hotel. The waiter takes his tray to the service table.
Philip I have an idea. Mr. McComas: this communication should be made, should it not, by a man of infinite tact?
McComas It will require tact, certainly.
Philip Good! Dolly: whose tact were you noticing only this morning?
Dolly Seizing the idea with rapture. Oh, yes, I declare! William!
Philip The very man! Calling. William!
Waiter Coming, sir.
McComas Horrified. The waiter! Stop, stop! I will not permit this. I⁠—
Waiter Presenting himself between Philip and McComas. Yes, sir. McComas’s complexion fades into stone grey; and all movement and expression desert his eyes. He sits down stupefied.
Philip William: you remember my request to you to regard me as your son?
Waiter With respectful indulgence. Yes, sir. Anything you please, sir.
Philip William: at the very outset of your career as my father, a rival has appeared on the scene.
Waiter Your real father, sir? Well, that was to be expected, sooner or later, sir, wasn’t it? Turning with a happy smile to McComas. Is it you, sir?
McComas Renerved by indignation. Certainly not. My children know how to behave themselves.
Philip No, William: this gentleman was very nearly my father: he wooed my mother, but wooed her in vain.
McComas Outraged. Well, of all the⁠—